Till you breathe,
You will wreathe
The un exhausted desire
With the pointed needle;
Knitting, weaving, fiddling……
When breath exhausts,
Then exhausts everything,
Everything exhausted,
Death says, ” Calm down, you desire”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Till you breathe, You will wreathe The un exhausted desire - - desire is certainly inexhausijble